Above the Wreckage
by SpiritWolf13
Summary: All he wants from school is good friends, good grades and a world away from the one he’s had to grow up in, but even then the supernatural finds him and he wishes for once that he could escape it all….


**Above the Wreckage**

**Summary: **All he wants from school is good friends, good grades and a world away from the one he's had to grow up in, but even then the supernatural finds him and he wishes for once that he could escape it all….

* * *

The flames licked the night sky, the flames and their mixture of orange, reds and yellows illuminating a pale face. Tears blazed trails down sooty cheeks, sliding down to pool against the blackened t-shirt. Hazel green eyes bloodshot and weary lifted up to watch as wind howled and caressed the flames making them curl high and spread out further.

Nimble fingers curled around the handle of a .45 as he lifted his head higher so he could watch the topmost flames as they devoured the roof of the old cabin and a sob caught in the back of his throat and the noise erupted from his mouth like a whimper. His heart tightened in his chest as he felt the vibration as his chunky cell phone rang in the pocket of his jeans for the thirty seventh time since he had arrived at the cabin three days ago. He pulled the cell from his pocket, the screen flashing at him; with a sob he dropped it to the floor, following it as his legs gave out on him.

Sam could hear someone screaming his name somewhere behind him, but his attention remained solely on the old cabin.

The flames let out an animalistic roar as another window blew and the captive flames sprung free, the lour roar covering the strangled chuckle that followed another sob, because only he could have this sort of luck.

He was suddenly struck from behind, a pair of arms wrapped around him crushing him against a broad chest, while words were being spoken into his ears, one arm moving to wrestle the gun from his hand, before settling back around his chest. He could hear another set of footsteps and harried words, but he didn't even flinch, even when the arms released him and instead latched onto his forearms wrestling him around and away from the fire.

'We need to get out of here.' A voice was demanding. 'Cops could be here any minute.' He sounded tired.

'I know.' The second voice sounded strained and just as exhausted.

He finally met the eyes of the man who had grabbed him, looking up into weary green eyes he let another sob escape him and his brother shushed him gently and tried encouraging him to his feet.

'Sammy please, we have to get away from here.'

'Dean he looks like he's going into shock, we don't have time for this, move out the way.'

His brother was pushed out the way and he felt his Father's arm sliding around his back and the other under his knees, before he was lifted into the air, his Dad's six foot two frame only just able to support his lanky five ten.

* * *

He didn't remember getting back to the motel, but there was a TV flickering in the background and his brother was humming some sort of rock music as he paced back and forth as his Dad's voice murmured softly in the background.

'Sammy?' Dean was suddenly leaning on the mattress beside him, because he could feel the bed dip and his body roll to the right.

Sam's eyelids flickered open and he took in his brother's face just above his own.

'You with me Sam?' Dean asked.

He could smell smoke and an image of the burning building and pained brown eyes came to his mind and he let out a choked wail, that sent Dean stumbling back, before his older brother darted forward and pulled him into his arms, something so uncharacteristic for his nineteen year old brother. Sam grabbed onto the arms just as tightly and closed his eyes.

'What happened Sam?' Dad's voice cut in and he felt Dean's arms tense.

'Dad-'

'We need to know Dean.' John growled. 'He disappeared for three days and suddenly we find him out the front of a burning building!' His voice rose in anger, but it peaked off at the end enough for Sam and Dean to hear the fear in their Dad's voice. Johns hand was suddenly on Sam's face, calloused fingers against his cheeks, before his head was forced around so he would look at his Dad. 'Sammy?' The soft endearment was a plea for answer, not an order and Sam lifted an arm to place his hand up and to wrap fingers around his Father's wrist as a sob left him.

'Come on kiddo.' Dean whispered.

'I killed him,' were the first words from Sam's lips. 'Oh God.' He whispered fingers tightening around John's wrist. 'Oh God,' he breathed again, his other hand leaving his brother's arm to cover his mouth. 'I killed him….Dad I killed him…I killed him.' His Dad's hand left his face and he panicked, reaching desperately for his Dad, something he hadn't done since he was a young child. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Don't do that….don't leave….' Johns hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

'I'm here Son.'

'Sammy…Sammy shush, it's alright….who died.' Dean was whispered softly

'I…the fire….' Sam whispered.

'Sammy focus, who died….'

'No, I killed him….I killed him….' His voice was growing in pitch and Dean gently placed both hands on his face, stilling him. He hadn't realised he was shaking his head.

'Sam it's okay, but you need to calm down and tell me and Dad what happened…where the hell you've been, because we were shit scared little brother.'

'He paused and looked up with confusion as Dean's hands slipped from his face.

'Yeah, you heard me Sammy; shit scared, terrified, freaking out….' Dean attempted to give him a sardonic grin, but it failed.

'Why were you at that Cabin Sam.' John asked pulling his youngest boys attention to him.

'Robbie.' Sam whispered, before he covered his face and a sob escaped him.

'Who's Robbie?' John demanded, gaze lifting from his youngest to his oldest Son.

Dean frowned and looked up; his hands were on his lap now and his green eyes were bright with puzzlement and fear. 'His friend, the little brown haired kid.' He turned back to his brother, eyes now sympathetic. 'Sammy, is Robbie dead?'

'I killed him.' Sam whispered his voice crackling.

'Why?' John demanded, exchanging looks with Dean.

'I had to…I didn't want to…oh God Daddy I didn't want to.' Sam sobbed.

John felt his breath catch in his throat as his Son called him Daddy, Sam hadn't called him that since he was seven and it was a testimony to the utter fear and grief Sam was going through, he was demanding comfort, his fifteen year old, strong-willed, independent child was seeking comfort to deal with something he couldn't figure out how to understand.

Dean moved forward and John had to put a hand up to tell him to back off a moment. Dean looked put out, but grudgingly allowed his Father to take over and he did, pushing Sam over, he sat on the bed beside him and curled his arms around his Son's shoulders. 'Why?' He asked again as Sam pressed against him.

'He…I….the hunt.' He babbled into his Father's shirt.

Dean let out a soft gasp and John pulled Sam away so he could see his face. 'What are you talking about?'

Sam had begun accompanying the family on hunts about a year ago, the same age Dean had been when he had first started, but unlike his father and Brother Sam had never faced anything alone and certainly not killed anything.

'Robbie.' He saw a flash of brown eyes and heard rasping tortured gasps and he jolted away from John and scrambling off the bed he raced for the small bathroom.

'Sammy!?' Dean darted after him, falling to his knees beside Sam as he retched into the toilet, bringing up nothing but bile due to the fact he hadn't eaten anything for at least forty eight hours. He blinked back tears as he leant his forehead against the seat and his brother rubbed soothing circles across his back.

'I remembered…' Sam whispered into the seat.

'Remembered what?' Dean asked softly, gently pulling him away from the toilet and helping him slowly to his feet. 'You smell like a bonfire.' He whispered randomly as he tugged his brother to his side to support him.

Sam let out a sob at the remark and Dean cursed himself silently. 'Tuesday you said…said….you shot….it.'

Dean stopped suddenly. 'I shot the Skin-Walker? Yeah.' He looked to his Dad, but by John's face he had already figured out something and a moment later Dean understood also. 'Oh Sammy….' He lowered his brother back onto the bed and pulled him so he leant against his side, his head resting against his brother's. The dark chestnut bangs smelt strongly of smoke and it irritated his nose.

'How did you know?' John asked, surprisingly soft.

'Robbie was limping…and….he….the gunshot…I just, just, I knew, then I followed him home, never….the pelts, he…Dean I didn't….I wanted, how could….why me? Why me.' His face crumpled and Dean rocked him gently. 'Three months and I….we…..oh God.'

Dean's face looked pained as he tried to stop his own tears, Sam had killed his first monster….had killed his first ever monster _alone_, had killed his first monster….and it had been his best friend.

'He was in agony!' Sam suddenly shouted, his voice angry and he pushed from Dean, tears still sliding down his face as he whirled to face his Dad. 'Why me?! He was screaming in agony and I….and he….Dammit! DAMMIT!' He screamed.

'Sam, hey, Sammy its okay, it's okay…..you did what you had to do Son and I'm proud of you.' John grabbed Sam's arms and Sam could see the tears in the corner of his Dad's eyes.

'I couldn't shoot him.' Sam whispered. 'I said his name….and he was in pain…I…I told him what he was…and he was in pain…I didn't know…but I couldn't…' He pushed his hands up his face and into his hair, holding tightly to the thick locks in an attempt to calm down. 'His eyes.' Sam whimpered. 'And he begged me…begged me to stay…said…I'm sorry….Terry Jameson…'

John's eyes narrowed, Terry Jameson had been one of three people the Skin-Walker had killed. 'What about him.'

'He….he punched me….I….didn't, Robbie….said I was his only….had to protect me…My fault….S'all my fault!' Sam let out a choked cry and started coughing.

'Sam you need to calm down before you make yourself sick again.' John snapped.

'He wouldn't …but because of me, he killed someone for me…he attacked….he wasn't evil….but he was….he was….because he killed people, but he was…'

Dean moved forward again as John backed up a hand rubbing over the lower hand of his face sat down into one of the chairs around the wooden round table, letting Dean jump in to calm their panicking family member.

Dean took Sam's face in his hands again, trying to get his brother to focus on him again. 'Sammy listen to me, listen….I know what you had to do must have been horrible and I'm sorry we weren't there to help, I am so sorry, but you need to calm down and you need to understand that what happened was not your fault. You didn't ask him to kill those people, it was his choice and his choice alone….it wasn't you kiddo, it wasn't.'

Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrists and nodded his head weakly. 'He seemed normal.' He whispered. 'He was my best friend.' He choked. 'I held his hand when he died…for three days…I promised to stay with him…I killed him….because he killed….I wasn't going to…when I followed and saw….I wanted to, to walk away, but I didn't…and he asked…he wanted me to…I said….no, no, because…I read what they do….you know what they do…how they became one, do you?'

'I do Sammy.'

'His own Dad, Dean….he killed his own Dad….how could…why, no, no….I'm sorry….'

Dean pulled Sam into him again and rested his head on top of Sam's looking over at their Dad, who was sat on the chair, fists clasped together and held under his chin watching his sons, his expression was guarded however. Dean lowered his gaze and sighed. 'I'm sorry you had to do that Sam.' He mumbled.

'Sam, why don't you go take a shower.' John said from the chair.

Sam pulled from his brother and nodded, stepping around Dean and hurrying into the bathroom.

* * *

Dean dropped onto the end of the bed with a heavy sigh, his breath shuddering. 'Dad.'

'I know.' John whispered. 'Dammit Dean he should have called us.'

Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair. 'He's okay though….I really thought-'

'Me too, Son.' John admitted as the shower clicked on. 'But he did good…. the first is always the worst.'

Dean's head jerked up. 'Dad he's a mess…when was the last time Sam let us hug him and fuss over him like that…this…he just had to kill his best friend and you're already….'

'I know that, but he still did it and even had the sense after all that to get rid of the evidence.'

Dean shook his head, having to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from having to say something.

John grabbed his keys from the table and pulled up his jacket.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm getting us some food; your brother probably hasn't eaten for three days….just…watch out for him okay.'

'I always do.' Dean replied, trying to keep back the bite in his tone.

John stopped in front of the door, twisting to look at his son. 'You know that I would have given anything to prevent Sammy from having to do that.' He clenched his fist and looked over at the bathroom door. 'But it happened and now we just need to help him move forward.'

Dean waited until the door closed and the sound of his Dad's truck became a distant murmur before he got to his feet and with a shaky hand pulled off his jacket and boots, which he had neglected to remove, though as he moved he realised that he also stank of the smoke from the fire and immediately began peeling off his clothes, throwing them in a pile between the two beds.

Changing his clothes he then grabbed a few for Sam and approaching the door he knocked gently against it. 'Sammy, I'm just going to bring in some clean clothes okay.' He pushed the door open and flipping down the lid of the toilet, he placed the clothes on top. 'You okay?' He kept his back to the bath, giving his brother his privacy.

A soft murmur was his response and he accepted it, exiting the room quickly. His brother was crying.

* * *

'Hey.'

Dean removed his arm from his eyes and looked up at his brother. Sam was standing over him, hair dripping still, his face looked calmer and his voice, though hoarse, was softer and didn't sound as panicked.

'Hey.' Dean said back.

'Where's Dad?' Sam asked, sitting on his own bed, threading his fingers through his damp hair.

'Went to get some food, he'll be back soon.' Dean looked at his watch and cringed, it had been almost twenty minutes, unless his Dad was going to the diner on the far side of town, he should have been back a while ago. He pushed himself up and turned so he and his brother were mirroring each others position.

'Why didn't you call us?' Dean asked and he wasn't sure himself whether he was asking about when Sam had first found out the secret or when he had been sat for three days holding and offering comfort to his friend as he died a painful death.

'I….I don't know.' Sam pressed his heels into his eyes.

'You need to sleep Sam, you look tired.'

'So do you….when was the last time you slept.'

'Probably same time you did…Get some sleep Sammy I'll wake you when Dad gets back okay.'

'Dean I-'

'If you're about to apologise for your behaviour earlier Sam, then don't…I don't want to hear it…he may have been a Skin-Walker, but for the last three months he was also your friend and it's okay…after what you did, it is okay.'

'Okay.' Sam whispered voice husky with tears. 'Thank you.'

Dean groaned. 'Damn it Sammy, you're turning me into a right chick here.' He heard his brother snort and he turned onto his side to see his brother smiling weakly at him.

'Does it always feel like this?' Sam suddenly asked, smile dropping.

'What?'

'Killing something that was human.' Sam asked.

'The first couple of times, yeah.' Dean admitted, 'but it gets better with time…I promise….it was just worse for you because you knew him Sam…it's always harder when you know them.'

'Have you-'

Dean fell onto his back, looking up at the water stained ceiling. 'Sammy go to sleep.'

'Dean?'

He groaned. 'Yeah.'

'I don't want to do this anymore.' Sam whispered brokenly.

Dean shifted back onto his side and looked over at his brother; Sam was sat same place as before clutching the covers in his hand, knuckles almost white with how tight he was holding on. 'Do what?'

'Hunting…I can't do this, I can't….' He covered his face. 'Sorry.' He wiped the back of his hand over his face.

'Sammy we…just go to sleep, when you wake you'll feel so much better.' Dean rolled away and looked at the door, listening to his brother moving about in the bed next to him, until it fell silent and Sam's breathing steadied out in sleep.

* * *

'What the hell Dad.' Dean hissed. 'It's been hours, where have you been?' As John passed him however he smelt the smoke and frowned. 'Did you go back to the cabin?'

'Yeah before I got us something to eat.' John lowered himself down on the end of Dean's bed, placing a McDonald's bag beside his oldest. 'Cabin was burnt to cinders, I spoke to some cops on the scene, they couldn't find any remains and I did a sweep of the area, there was nothing left behind that could pin this on Sammy.'

'But we're leaving right?' Dean asked, pushing the bag out the way so he could climb off the bed. The smell of the fries and burgers causing his stomach to roll, for once he wasn't hungry.

'In the morning, but first.' He pointed at the bag.

'I'm not hungry Dad.'

'You've barely eaten a thing since we realised Sam hadn't come back from school, so eat it….I'm not having you collapsing on me…eat.' John ordered, moving across the gap to where his youngest slept, fitfully by the looks of the rumpled covers and pained creases in his son's face. 'Sammy?' He shook his shoulder gently.

Sam bolted upwards. 'I'm here!' He yelled.

'Sam?'

Sam blinked several times, before looking around the room. He relaxed on seeing his father and brother. 'I'm okay….you're back.'

'Got you some food.' John said, pulling at him gently to encourage him to sit up. Dean handed him a box of fries and he held them out to Sam.

Sam took them, but made no effort to eat any.

'You have to eat….when was the last time you ate?'

'I had some candy bars in my backpack.' Sam murmured. 'I'm sorry Dean your knife was in my bag, I didn't….'

'It's okay…I gave it too you, so technically you melted your own knife.'

'And my books…my teachers are going to kill me.' He said weakly, he looked up at them, eyes watering. 'Can we leave?'

'What?'

'I don't want to stay in this town anymore Dad, can we leave.'

'In the morning.' John nodded, trading glances with Dean. 'We'll head to Bobby's, haven't seen the old guy in a while and he might have something for us.'

Sam picked at a fry, his hair hanging down over his eyes. 'I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising Sam and just eat your food.' John stood up and grabbing up his duffel made for the bathroom. Leaving the two brother's alone again.

Dean popped a fry in his mouth and the moment it hit his tongue his hunger came back full force. 'Sam eat.'

'Can't, I'm not hungry.' Sam put the fries on the table between the two beds.

'That's because it's been a while, put it in your mouth, you'll be hungry then.' Dean instructed, though his words fell on deaf ears.

'Do you think I should try and find Robbie's family?' Sam suddenly blurted out, causing Dean to suck back air and choke on a fry.

'What?' Dean coughed, thumping his chest.

'He told me that after he killed his Dad he ran from home, his Mom and Sister didn't know he did it and he never said goodbye to them….Don't know how, but he managed to get himself emancipated.'

'Ouch.'

'Dean.' Sam sighed. 'It means he made himself a legal adult, he didn't need a parent or Guardian.'

'Dude, I know what it means.' Dean rolled his eyes. 'I don't know Sam, it's up to you.'

'If it was me you'd have wanted to know right?'

Dean's silence was all the answer he needed.

Dean finished off his fries and started on the burger. 'How long was he a Skin-Walker for?'

'Three years….not long at all.' Sam whispered. 'Why would he do that to himself…he was a good kid Dean, he was…I thought he was.'

'I guess we'll never know…come on, eat some of that before Dad gets out the shower…I'm going to start packing.'

* * *

The Impala was silent except for the engines characteristic rumbling, Dean's fingers moved silently over the wheel, drumming a beat to a song that they couldn't hear as they followed behind John's truck.

Sam sat in the passenger seat, head tilted and resting against the glass window as he watched the world pass him by in a blur. They had left as soon as the sun peaked out from the darkness, Dean and Sam in one car, John in his own.

'You alright there Sammy?' Dean patted him on the knee, eyes never straying from the road.

Sam murmured something, not turning from the window, they passed a couple of buildings before they hit just roads and woods and he straightened in his seat as he caught sight of police tape and saw the tendrils of smoke that curled upwards feebly, all that remained of a massive fire that, if it wasn't for the fire services, could have destroyed most of the surrounding woodland. He pressed a hand to the glass and twisted in his seat as they drove past, keeping it in sight.

'Sam.' Dean warned gently.

'Dean?'

'Don't look back.' Dean looked at him for a moment and smiled sadly, before concentrating on the road.

'Yeah.' Sam mumbled, images of brown eyes, fire and screaming springing to mind, before he turned to stare at his brother's profile, hazel eyes blinking away tears. 'Yeah.' He repeated turning to look at the sky and hoping that if Dean looked at him again he would think that the watering of his eyes was just due to the brightness of the sun.

* * *

**Spiritwolf13- **Hey, this one-shot was something that sprung to mind last night, it was the after effects of a rejected story idea…name from the song I was listening to at the time….and since I've got a little writers block on the story I'm working on (don't worry there's no young Sam or Dean in that one) - 9 chaps so far- I had to sit and write it. It's a bit odd and they're all probably a little OOC, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW and thank you to everyone who reviewed on my last story, I appreciated every one of them!


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